Our Crooked Aim
by balladofbliss
Summary: "I just wanted something to be easy for once," he says softly. "Safe. You understand?" (Sam and Andy, early S4, slight promo spoiler.)
1. Chapter 1

This very little bit was inspired by the Season 4 promo (can't believe we're almost there) and a reread of _Power Politics _by Margaret Atwood (from which I derived the title and the opening, closing, and summary quotes. Please, read it. Read everything she's ever written). It's possible that I'll write a second part to this, maybe later in the season if things go favorably, but for the time being I'm marking it as complete. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue, _Power Politics_, or any other medium of culture/entertainment that may appear in this work. Two lines of dialogue that appear here are from the S4 promo.

* * *

_We are hard on each other  
and call it honesty,  
choosing our jagged truths  
with care and aiming them across  
the neutral table.  
_

* * *

On her third day back - days one and two consisting of debriefing and a far-too-lengthy visit with the shrink - she spots him across the station. He looks different.

Lean, for one thing.

Not the six-months-under look to which she's recently resigned herself when she looks in the mirror, her face gaunt and bordering on sallow; on the contrary, he seems imbued with a healthier glow than she can ever recall him possessing. And it's not just a physical change, she swears to herself as her mind feverishly works to process that first momentary glance; there's something newly resolute about his whole disposition. The way he stands beside the coffee machine, chatting with some officer Andy's never seen before when he suddenly leans in and...

Well. She's always felt it was a little dramatic to feel betrayed at the thought of one's ex moving on - _it's their right_, she would think to herself as her girlfriends in high school and college would bemoan their former paramours' activities - but now that she's experienced it, that unbearable sensation of her stomach plunging to her feet, of shock and disappointment and vague humiliation... she gets it. The 'moving on' part isn't the problem in and of itself, she realizes from her place behind the doorway, still invisible to Sam and his new... whatever she is. The problem is that it's a way of rejecting her all over again.

"Ouch."

The interrupting voice makes her jump, and she turns abruptly to find Nick, who's apparently witnessed the kiss as well.

She scoffs despite knowing damn well that there's little she can conceal from him at this point. "What?" she hisses, hoping to convey both that she doesn't care and that she'd like him to please keep it down. (If she's really lucky, he won't point out the two somewhat contradict each other.)

Nick shrugs. "Hell of a 'welcome back', that's all."

(He has that look on his face that he gets whenever he feels uncomfortable; in his attempt to express understanding while keeping things light, the sympathetic smile has a tendency to come off as smarmy. Usually, Andy recognizes his intent and appreciates the effort, but right now she just wants to smack him.)

"It's fine," she mutters, knowing full well that it's anything but. "He can do what he wants."

"He know you're back on duty yet?"

_Relentless today, aren't we?_ she considers replying. Instead, wanting to put an end to this conversation as quickly as possible, she simply shakes her head.

Nick grins again, and Andy curls her fingers tight against her palm to refrain from letting her fists fly. "Wonder how long that'll last once he does." He about-faces and heads down the hall before Andy can ask him to at least go in there and get her some coffee.

She sighs as quietly as she can muster before turning to follow him, not seeing Sam look up and catch sight of her as she departs.

* * *

"I don't get it," she pants to Traci for the fifth time since they've commenced their run. (She's had a day to process, and denial has evolved into anger. Not that she's grieving, because that would be ridiculous, but she just might be rocking the five stages all the same.) "He says he loves me, wants to make it work, and then..."

"And then you took off," Traci points out once more, her patient tone marred with an edge that wasn't there the first four times this conversation took place. "He didn't know when you'd be coming back. Or if you'd want anything to do with him. He figured it was you saying you were done."

"I know," she mutters, leaning over with hands on bent knees. Intellectually, she fully understands that his actions make sense, and while she doesn't regret accepting the task force, it's honestly not like she expected him to sit around pining for her. She wants him to be happy, whatever that takes. But her heart, with its tendency to eschew all reason and logic when it comes to him... They always come back to each other. She's long accepted that; can't believe he's forgotten.

"He just looked so... I can't describe it," she says as they pick up the pace again.

"What, happy?" Traci inquires between ragged breaths.

"That's the thing." Andy squints against the sunlight that's passing through the trees flanking their path. "I know what he looks like when he's happy, and if he were, that would be one thing, but he wasn't. He was... peaceful, you know? Like, post-lobotomy peaceful."

She's seen him exuberant and silly, furious and devastated. (Not to mention just about everywhere in between.) But not like that; never with the fire in his eyes reduced to ash.

Traci pauses to take a swig from her water bottle before responding. "Nothing wrong with just being content. He's doing fine."

They keep running in lockstep, Andy silent as she contemplates her friend's words. Traci's right; there's nothing wrong with it for someone who pursues a life that's quiet and uneventful. But 'content' is not Sam, and much as she likes to pretend otherwise, 'fine' is nowhere near enough.

* * *

They're walking out to the sally port at the same time after shift a couple days later, when Cruz is off; the hallway's so narrow that it would actually be more awkward to ignore each other than to attempt small talk. After exchanging polite congratulations on their respective accomplishments over the past six months, he offers her a ride to the Penny. It's probably just to have something else to say, which occurs to Andy as she's accepting and realizes they're now condemned to continue this little song and dance for another several minutes. As he pushes open the door, she frantically makes a mental list of topics to get them through the drive without fear of awkward silence. (Weather. Hockey. That competitive taxidermy show Gail's obsessed with right now - fine, she's truly hoping it doesn't come to that.)

Once they're both in the truck, though, doors slammed and seatbelts buckled, he fixes his eyes to the steering wheel and remarks, "Shame you were gone so long."

"Doesn't look like you missed me _that_ much," she retorts without thinking.

He looks up at her with a start, clearly indignant. "Excuse me?"

Over the course of a fairly brief and rather reckless trip (Andy loses count of the number of times her body lurches toward the dashboard as Sam slams on the brakes, the seatbelt cutting almost painfully into her clavicle), everything comes up. _Everything._ How she went to the fishing cabin and moved in with Callaghan; how he pushed her toward him, told her 'it was what it was' and never told her a thing -

("I tried!" he yells at one point.

"Oh yeah? What, before I was holding a grenade? Care to enlighten me?" she shoots back.

"You asked what was holding me back from undercover," he retorts. "'You.' I said 'you', remember?"

Her eyes widen, aghast. "You were _serious_? God, Sam, fine. I'll rephrase. You never told me a thing without turning it into a damn joke immediately after!")

- and it just keeps getting worse. Every disagreement, every conflict that they'd swept under the rug previously is exposed, strewn about the cab of the truck and clogging the air between them. They're both so far on the defensive that at one point they're both screaming over one another, barely able to coherently express more than, "Well, _you_…!" before the other angrily interrupts.

They've ceased to speak by the time they pull up to the Penny; Andy suspects it's more likely that they're exhausted with the whole thing (and one another) than that they've reached any kind of détente. After Sam turns off the ignition, they sit motionless for a minute before she quietly confides, "You broke my heart."

(That's what it all comes down to; everything they've been yelling about is extraneous.)

"You got me back," he eventually replies. She's about to say she never meant to hurt him, and for Christ's sake when are they going to stop keeping score, when for a split second he looks at her with enough longing and regret to make her heart seize. As quickly as it appears, though, it's replaced with the comfortably numb expression he's been wearing around Cruz, everything he's ever felt for Andy neatly painted over once more. "Coming in?"

She shakily climbs out of the truck after him, figuring that's that (and at least they're in a place with nearly infinite booze), but he stops and turns to her well short of the entrance.

"I just wanted something to be easy for once," he says softly. "Safe. You understand?"

She opens her mouth to protest before realizing that she most certainly does, and has no reason or right to fault him for it. So she nods wordlessly, and he murmurs, "Okay."

As she watches him walk through the front door, she remains in the parking lot where they started and ended and hurled themselves into limbo. She's never fought with anyone like she fights with him; has never wanted to fight _for_ anyone like him. She'd stake her life on the feeling being mutual. But not yet, she accepts as she enters the bar, seeking out her friends and deliberately ignoring the (admittedly insipid) smile Sam is offering Cruz over by the pool table.

Not yet.

* * *

_If I love you  
is that a fact or a weapon?_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback. To clarify a point brought up in a couple reviews, the conversation between Andy and Traci is happening for the first time on the page, but the fifth time in their reality. Ever had a friend who went on about an issue nonstop? It's a little hard to remain completely patient and supportive after a certain point, isn't it? That's what's happening there; Traci is a little weary of having the same conversation repeatedly, and she's also realizing that rather than simply telling Andy what she wants to hear over and over, it might be good for Andy to consider it from a different perspective, so Traci's also playing devil's advocate, not necessarily choosing Sam's side.

Some of what's here is based on scenes from the promo, though I take significant liberties with the timeline and dialogue; please remember this is intended to entertain, not to serve as a straight speculation/prediction on what we're actually going to see.

Also, in the words of the fabulous **rookieD**, per her intro to the excellent "We Start and End as One":

_I know tensions are high with regard to the release of season 4 promos, but I do ask that reviewers that are angry with characters or goings on are respectful when leaving their thoughts. We (including said characters) each have our story to tell._

See Chapter 1 for disclaimers. Thank you as always for reading.

* * *

_Next time we commit_

_love, we ought to_

_choose in advance what to kill._

* * *

Andy can talk a pretty good game about how she wants to ease back into things, but it's proving more or less impossible. Real life didn't stop just because she opted out of it for six months, so she's struggling to catch up and regain her stride. It's a bit like running after a bus as it pulls away from the stop, she reasons after yet another exhausting shift. Once in a blue moon, you can practically kill yourself getting there and recover fairly quickly. When the chase is constant, though – Andy's fairly certain she's experiencing the mental equivalent of pushing skeletal muscles to failure, whatever that is.

Nothing's nearly as comfortable as she recalls, is the thing. Her condo now feels like a bizarre vacation house that happens to be filled with her stuff. (Whether that's due to the assault and everything that followed or her lengthy absence is anybody's guess.) Her relations with 15 Division, both in terms of the actual job and her coworkers, are still somewhat unsettled. Tense.

It has nothing to do with Sam or his unavailability, she keeps telling herself. It's Gail's multiple daily attempts to send visual laser beams through Nick's and her bodies; Chris's inability to decide between work and family (and his subsequent halfhearted commitment to both); Dov and the apparent mess he's made of his love life. Traci is on a kick of 'bettering herself,' which consists of a rather grueling combination of work, motherhood, and exercise. (She seems to think that taking a moment for herself will imply she's forgotten Jerry. Not that Andy's about to bring it up; if Traci does feel that way, Andy knows she's stubborn enough that nothing will convince her otherwise. If she doesn't, Andy has no desire to put the idea in her head.)

And Nick... his own romantic conundrum and healing raccoon eyes aside, there's a stiffness present between the two of them that's never before existed. It's almost as if the closeness that developed due to their circumstances undercover, due to their need to survive, has been rendered obsolete by familiar faces and a return to uniform. Andy can't quite put her finger on it, but it's almost embarrassing, trying to take a step back after half a year of sharing their lives and thoughts and secrets, of becoming impossibly interdependent. Other people wouldn't understand, she figures, and they don't need to. It's all over and they can simply get on with their lives - except in order to do so, she'll have to move a lot faster than she currently is. Doesn't seem all that likely when she's currently flagging, with no end to this self-imposed rat race in sight.

* * *

The following day, she gets stuck riding with Cruz, and things go predictably sour about ten minutes in. She may claim it's Andy's relative lack of experience she doesn't trust, but there's pretty clearly some love-triangle bullshit going on in Cruz's head that's responsible for the attitude Andy's been enduring all day. Andy resists the urge to mentally mock Cruz's apparent insecurities, her thoughts predominantly turning to Luke and Jo and how she'd never want to put someone else in that position (nor render herself a homewrecker – whatever home there is to wreck). But since acknowledging the elephant in the squad car would probably make the whole situation unimaginably worse, she remains noncommittal. Until Cruz decides to ask, "So, McNally, you seeing anyone?"

"Why, know someone who's interested?" Andy fires back before her brain catches up to her mouth.

Truthfully, the mere thought of seeing anyone new exhausts her. Traci's suggested that she try to move on, and it's not like she's trying to remain static, clinging to something that no longer exists – but really, what's she going to do? Join a matchmaking website and spend a couple nights a week engaged in clumsy small talk at mediocre restaurants? Andy internally laughs and cringes simultaneously at the thought of it: 'I just spent six months living under a rock surrounded by criminals, and now I'm trying to get a fresh start, even though I'm back at the same division and work with my two most recent exes.' At least it's succinct enough for speed dating. _How to scare off potential suitors in sixty seconds or less, starring Andy McNally._

The craziest thing is that for the first time in her life, despite everything going somewhat awry, she actually has no desire to abandon everything and begin anew. 'That girl' or not, all _this_ girl wants is her old life back. Her job, her friends, her relationship – albeit with better communication and morning-after habits in terms of the latter.

But every single element of said old life has apparently left her in this no man's land. It's like the home-but-not-home one experiences in a fever dream, except she's not waking up – and the part where it turns nightmarish is in the driver's seat beside her, asking condescending questions for no good reason.

Cruz _does_ look momentarily taken aback after Andy's reply, and Andy almost wishes she could take it back – but then Cruz seems to pulls herself together and airily responds, "Sorry, can't say I do. You know how it is; all the good ones are gay or taken."

Before Andy can even begin to process that one, let alone formulate a response, the radio crackles to life, and they spend the rest of their morning talking down a Grade 10 student who's brought a gun to school. As they cuff him and guide him into the back of the cruiser, Mark tearfully confesses he planned to shoot his basketball coach, who's been sexually abusing him for the past year. Things come to a head outside the interrogation rooms; Andy wants to bring the coach in and begin an investigation, but Cruz believes Mark's teammates, who uniformly deny similar allegations and claim that the boy's always been troubled.

("Think about the trophy case in the front hall," Andy protests. "The coach is obviously popular, and they don't I really think some of them know more than they're letting on. That redheaded kid, Wayne? Come on, he was definitely a lot more jumpy than someone convinced of their story."

"Not the task at hand, McNally," Cruz responds coolly. "If someone else comes forward to corroborate his story, then we take steps in that direction – but right now all we've got is a kid who pulled out a gun in the school gym.")

And of course the detective who shows up in Interrogation 1 is Sam, and of _course_ he sides with Cruz, even if he does seem incredibly hesitant about doing so. "We just don't have the resources to initiate something like this, McNally, I'm sorry," he mutters. He does offer that the coach will eventually be investigated anyway, once the case comes before a judge and the allegations get out as part of the defense.

_Like that's some sort of consolation_, she thinks angrily. "Great, so then he'll have to rehash the whole thing in public, while all his teammates hate him for ruining their coach's life," she hisses.

He looks at her sort of helplessly, his hands turning upward in a _what can I do_ motion. It pisses her off even more – so she lowers her voice to a near-whisper and goes for the kill.

"You know, you have the authority to pursue things like this now, _Detective. _I thought you cared about protecting kids from people like this. That that's why you became a cop in the first place."

He looks at her blankly for a second before his eyes darken with recognition of what she's referring to. He bristles – not without reason, Andy acknowledges. "You don't know the first thing…"

"I don't?" she asks innocently. She knows she's headed way below the belt, but it's too late to stop herself. "So it would've been perfectly fine if your sister had been able to ID her attackers and the cops just said, 'Sorry, we don't have the resources, better luck next time'?"

Anyone else would mistake the gaze with which he levels her as neutral - including Cruz, apparently, who hasn't heard any of this hushed altercation, but is sitting there all cat-who-ate-the-canary nonetheless. She can see the unmitigated fury behind his eyes, though.

(No surprise; she's always been able to see in him what other people choose not to.)

"We're done here," he announces in a normal tone. "Take him back to a holding cell until the juvenile facility arranges for pickup."

_It's not worth being annoyed over_, Andy repeats to herself as she changes into street clothes and heads out. She's halfway through the parking lot, her mind on the unopened bottle of Chardonnay in her fridge, when Cruz calls after her: "Can't save 'em all, McNally."

_Have I not had enough of you today?_ She slowly turns around, steeling herself for the T.O.'s smug expression. "That's what your experience has taught you, huh? That there's a… a quota as far as how many people we can help? I say screw that, you do your best."

Cruz sighs patiently, like she's talking to a small child. "McNally, you've been doing this long enough not to be that naïve."

"Tell me how I'm naïve," Andy snaps. "Please. You think I haven't seen enough to know you can't fix everything? It doesn't mean you stop trying altogether. Otherwise, what's the point in even being here?"

She's too irritated to notice Sam walking toward them.

"McNally, what's going on?" he asks, more than a little trepidation present. (She can't blame him; it's not an exchange into which she imagines anyone would want to enter voluntarily.)

"Nothing," she replies with a tight smile. "Good night." _Congratulations_, she wants to say. _Your girlfriend manages to make _you_ look like an idealist_. Instead, she keeps walking; hears Sam tell Cruz he'll walk her to her car.

She looks back when she gets to the corner and almost immediately regrets it; he's talking, she's nodding slowly, and then without warning, they embrace. The sight of Sam's arms around _her _is fairly nauseating – somehow more so than witnessing their kiss.

_We're done here, all right_.

* * *

It's just over a week later that Frank assigns her to work with the D's. Sam waves her over as she enters the office. "We're charging that kid's coach," he explains, keys to the cruiser in his hand. "Thought you might want to come along and help out with questioning."

"Fine," she responds calmly, even as she's internally rejoicing at the thought of getting Mark some closure. As Sam approaches, she snatches the keys in a smooth motion and breezes past. "But I'm driving."

(Remarkably, he doesn't protest.)

On their way to the school, a van cuts them off; as Andy stops short to avoid a collision, a bullet suddenly cracks the windshield. They dive across the seat and out the door as more follow, taking cover behind the cruiser.

"Should've known this would happen," Sam gasps, wry as one can be while under fire. "First time back on the road with you and I'm getting shot at."

"Missed me, didn't you?" The smartass response seems to emerge of its own accord, and his consequent grin takes her by surprise.

"You have no idea, McNally."

The words linger in her mind throughout the hectic day that follows. They catch a ride back to 15 with backup, trading in the damaged squad car and proceeding with their task of collecting the basketball coach, only to end up on a wild goose chase. Eventually, his mother informs them that he's taken a convenient 'vacation' to visit relatives in France.

"Now what?" Andy grumbles as they leave the elderly woman's apartment complex.

Sam sighs. "Charge him, get him tracked down and extradited. If we're lucky."

It's quiet on the ride back, and they pull into the lot as daylight is beginning to fade. Andy kills the engine, but neither of them move, two pairs of eyes on the dashboard.

"Was it true?" Andy blurts out.

Sam looks up distractedly. "What?"

"When you said you loved me," she clarifies. "Not asking if it's still true, I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, but all stupid jokes aside, was it when you said it?"

"Yes," he replies without hesitation. "And you're wrong."

"What do you mean, I'm wrong?"

He raises his eyebrows. "It's still true."

Andy snorts. "Yeah, okay. Your girlfriend know that?"

"Don't have one."

Andy glances at him skeptically. "So you're all cuddly in the parking lot, like, a week ago… and just like that, it's done?"

"That was… wait, _cuddly_? That's what you got from that?" He shakes his head. "Look, we went out for pizza. To the movies, that kind of thing. She brought up becoming exclusive a couple times, and I couldn't say yes, I just… What you saw? That was a goodbye."

"Wait. You were ending things that night?"

"Mm-hmm."

Andy's at a loss. "Something about my tearing you a new one in interrogation led you to that?"

Sam waits a beat, then fixes her with an intense gaze she wants to shy away from but can't. "You don't accept excuses. You make me want to be better – at work, at life." He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. "I thought easy was the answer; it's not. And I think we both know normal was kind of a disaster. So… maybe we try for better?"

"We?" It's not that she's opposed to the idea, it's just… this is all kind of a lot at once. (And it's been a really long day.)

"We don't have to," Sam backpedals, somewhat defeated. "If you don't want to, you're not ready, we can just…"

"So help me, Sam, if you say 'be friends' right now…"

"I wasn't going to."

She sighs, and they silently exit the car and walk the short distance to the station. She stops short of the entrance.

"I seem to remember you owing me a drink."

He stops in his tracks; turns around, one hand on the door. "You know, I almost took a bullet today trying to track down that guy. I think you owe _me_ one."

There's late-afternoon sun running through his hair and hope alight in his eyes. She smiles. "How about I pick up the second round?"

A grin blooms on his face, matching hers. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

She takes her time in the locker room – not that this is a date or anything, the prissy internal voice of self-preservation reminds her. If they try to pick up where they left off, there's no telling whether or not it'll work; whether or not it'll end up even worse than it did the first time around.

Still, she imagines him leaning against the wall outside waiting for her and something surges in her heart.

_No, not a date_, she thinks as she runs a brush through her hair.

It's the start of something better.

* * *

_My walls absorb  
you, breathe you forth  
again_


End file.
